


When Diana Met Peggy

by ErisDea



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Wonder Woman (2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 18:23:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11167485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisDea/pseuds/ErisDea
Summary: Diana never means to fight, it’s just that the situation often calls for it. At least she doesn’t start it this time (of course, she never starts it, but this time, she isn’t involved until after the fighting starts). No, that honor goes to the mortal woman she assists.And indeed, Diana barely does anything. The woman's movements are stiff and barely honed, but she strikes hard and true—enough that most of the inebriated men harassing her are startled into retreat. It’s only the recipient of her punch who persists, shoving the woman hard enough to topple both her and the seats behind her.That is when Diana steps in.





	When Diana Met Peggy

**Author's Note:**

> Okay but I almost titled this 'women who loved a steve' because seriously, comics, wow, how many Steves do you have to trap in a plane and crash in the ocean?
> 
> And actually, there's a funny story here, but it morphed into this long thing while I was writing it so I'll table that personal experience because you're not here for that! =P
> 
> Also, fair warning:
> 
> 1: I hope I wrote Peggy and Diana as close to their character possible, but I might not have. I didn't rewatch Agent Carter for this and I've only seen the BvS and WW movies once. Sorry if they're out of character!
> 
> 2: I wrote this following Wonder Woman's comic history, so it's set in WW2. Like I said, I've only seen the movie once so far, so I didn't remember it was set in WW1. I tried to change it, but the story's tone was drastically altered, growing a little darker than I planned, so I put it back as it was.
> 
> 3: Idk when I'll add more to this story. While I have a ton of Peggy&Diana (and Peggy/Diana) material hopping around in my head, I'm pretty busy in rl, so for now, this will be a one-shot. (Plus, I still have my writer's block for epic romance to move past, so... yeah. Sorry to everyone still waiting on that. I have like, 3 chapters ready to go, it's just this next chapter that's holding me back. I literally have forty-three drafts of the same chapter, that's how terribly things are going for it rn. Sorry again!)
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this!

Diana never means to fight, it’s just that the situation often calls for it. At least she doesn’t start it this time (of course, she never starts it, but this time, she isn’t involved until after the fighting starts). No, that honor goes to the mortal woman she assists.

And indeed, Diana barely does anything. For the most part, the women of today prefer to cower when faced with an aggressive man—Diana can never tolerate such a scene, thus her tendency to interfere. This woman, however, does not hesitate to speak her mind. She tells the men she isn’t interested in them, and asks they leave her alone. When they persist, she repeats herself, and Ted the barman tells them to knock it off or leave. They do not listen, one of them hissing at Ted while another touches the woman’s arm. To Diana’s surprise, the woman slaps his hand in reprimand and promises violence should he try again. It’s what makes Diana hesitate to interrupt, because unlike the women before her, this one looks as if she can handle herself. She may not need Diana’s help at all.

Her hesitation is almost vindicated. The man scowls and tries to grab the woman, but although her movements are stiff and barely honed, she strikes his gut quickly, hard and true—enough that most of the inebriated men harassing her are startled into retreat, with the exception of the recipient of her punch. With anger on his face, he shoves the woman hard enough to topple both her and the seats behind her.

That is when Diana steps in. She leaps to her feet, chiding herself for her dawdling and outraged at the man’s dishonorable action. Her friends do not bother to stand, aware and trusting that she can and likes to handle things herself. (They are unhappy about this at first, but they soon realized men are prone to stupefaction when she confronts them alone while the involvement of other men often worsens things and results in broken things. So they learned to leave it to her instead.) Sameer tries to gamble on her, but by now, Ted (who proves his appreciation for her efforts with free meals) and his usual nighttime patrons (who happily share their ale with her) know her well, so no one present is fool enough to take him up on it.

The violent drunkard swoops down to yank the woman up, but she surprises everyone by driving her knee between his legs once she is on her feet, making every watching man wince and make empathetic noises. This time, despite her surprise, Diana does not stop. She takes the crumpled, whimpering man by his collar, pulls him up and drags him to the door. Like the many she escorts from the premises, he leaves with pained moans and stumbling his feet. (Diana would carry him, but her friends have warned her against showing off her strength, as it may attract attention she would not like.) His friends follow her out and take him from her with familiar expressions of incredulity.

“Do not return if you wish to seek vengeance for your pride. Understand?” she warns, looking each one of them in the eye. Men, she has learned, respond best to such conditions when they know she has seen evidence of their chagrin.

They all nod and stumble away, and Diana is free to return inside. The woman is back on her seat, holding a new drink in one hand and a wet rag to her head. She sits differently now, her side surely aching from how she fell on the stools. Diana hesitates, sensing her desire to wallow in grief. She had been—often still is—the same way, grieving for Steve and refusing the comfort their friends offer to her. (It may even be why she likes the violence sometimes, as it allows her to focus on something else other than her loss.) But as the strange mortal saying goes, misery loves company.

She asks first, of course. “Would you mind if I sit next to you?”

The woman turns only her head, giving her an interested look. “I can’t stop you,” she replies. Diana seats herself, thanking Sameer when he delivers her ale. He smiles at her knowingly, squeezing her shoulder, then leaves them be. “Where are you from?”

Diana turns back to the woman, quickly swallowing the sip she had taken. “Themyscira,” she responds, a little amused and a little annoyed. Why was that always the first question mortals asked? Could they sense, somehow, that she was different from them?

Like the many before her, the woman’s eyebrows lift in confusion. Unlike them, she soon replaces it with a small frown. “That sounds like an old Greek city,” she says, much to Diana’s surprise. “It’s in Turkey now, isn’t it?”

Diana beams at her, oddly pleased at the recognition. “Geographically, yes,” she answers. “You know your history.”

“I know my mythology,” the woman corrects. “I… well, it was useful in my line of work.”

Diana considers what work that might be, as very few occupations would find mythology useful. “Are you a scholar or an antiques collector?”

The woman looks amused. “I’m in the military.”

Diana grins, understanding her amusement (her guesses _were_ quite far from the truth) and her eclectic knowledge. Her people were militaristic too, and had encountered creatures that they too had considered mythic beforehand. Knowledge of the mythical had proved useful in soothing or defeating them.

And, in some ways, despite being very real, Ares was once a myth to her too.

She shakes the memory of Ares away quickly, wishing not to dwell on  _him_. “I am too! Well, in a way,” she amends. She and her friends never had the official support of the military, which had turned them away even with Etta’s help. At least they acknowledged Steve’s sacrifice—Diana doesn’t know what she would’ve done if they hadn’t.

The woman gives her a sympathetic look. “Secretarial duties?”

Diana laughs. “Me, a secretary? Never! I mean, it’s an important job, of course,” she amends. Etta, despite her dislike of men’s attitudes, has convinced her of the necessity of the job. Nowadays, not many women could fight or build or look after the sick and wounded, so they contribute with administration work instead. “But it’s not for me. No, I fought at the front,” she assures, but that only confuses her conversation partner.

“You fought at the front?” The woman turns to her gingerly to study her with a frown. The rag comes away, revealing a growing bump on her head. “How?”

Diana thinks about Steve, about his willingness to disobey his commanders to fulfill his end of their deal, and feels the ache in her chest worsen. “I had a mission, so a very good friend helped me get there.”

The woman’s confusion disappears, replaced with a look of empathy. “I see.” And then she frowns again and gives Diana a long, considering look. “Who sent you?”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

The woman leans in slightly and whispers, “You’re not a very good spy, are you?”

Diana thinks about Steve again, remembering his unwilling confession of his occupation and the times he mentioned what it required from him. “It was my friend who was the spy,” she replies. “I am—”  _A God Killer_.  _A god_. No, no, that isn’t what she is, even if both things are also true. No, first and foremost, she is… “—a warrior. Spying is not for me.” She smiles as she imagines what Steve might say about that. “In fact, my friend would be horrified if I tried to do as he did. We learned I am… very not suited for the profession.”

The woman squints at her briefly. “All right,” she says, seemingly satisfied. “So you aren’t here for me?”

Diana feels there is a second meaning to her question, then remembers the strange question from before. “I was sent by no one,” she clarifies. “I only thought that sitting here would deter newcomers from accosting you.”

The woman opens her mouth, looking as if she did not believe Diana, but then visibly changes her mind. “I suppose I did start the conversation,” she says, looking annoyed. “My apologies.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Diana assures her. “It’s natural to be suspicious of strangers, especially when you are—” She gestures to the woman, “—from the military.”

“I suppose you’re right. And thank you,” she adds, turning back to the bar, “but you don’t need to sit with me. I can take care of myself.”

“I saw that,” Diana acknowledges. “You have the knowledge and a strong willingness to defend yourself. Your execution was a little off though. Do you not train often?”

The woman looks away. “Even female officers are discouraged from fighting,” she replies bitterly. Diana’s lip curls, all too aware of how much society has changed.

“It’s despicable,” she agrees. “There was a time when women could take up a sword and fight beside men. I still cannot understand how that changed.” Although in retrospect, men’s oppression of women was probably Ares’s fault. Aphrodite had favored women and blessed them with a great ability for compassion, which means they can shed his influence quicker. If women had retained a social status equal to men, Ares’s plan to let mankind destroy itself might not have come to pass at all.

Of course, this is only a theory. With Ares gone, Diana will never know if her assumption is correct.

“You and every woman on the planet,” the woman nods. She offers her glass for a toast and Diana happily completes the ritual. “I’m Peggy, by the way. Peggy Carter.”

“I am Diana Prince,” she returns, and as she and Peggy Carter sipped their drinks, Diana thinks about the papers tucked away in her pocket. It was the last gift she received from Steve and the reason he had no money to offer to Sameer and Charlie the night she met them. Etta replaced her fake documents with legal identification upon their return to London, sharing that Steve had arranged it for her while she was finding ‘acceptable’ apparel to wear. All that was left was for Diana to choose her name, and of course she chose the one he gave her. Now, thanks to him and Etta, the secret of the Amazons would never be discovered, as Diana had all the necessary documents to protect her true identity, in case someone investigated her.

Even in death, Steve still makes his presence known, is still able to express his affection for her. Diana adores and misses him even more for it.

“So, Diana Prince of Themyscira,” Peggy Carter says. Diana almost corrects her wording, but remembers not to at the last moment. “Do you train often?”

Diana squirms guiltily, thinking about what Antiope would say and feeling ashamed of herself. “Not recently,” she confesses. “But it was how I started my day since I was a child.”

Peggy Carter looks startled. “Your parents allowed it?”

“My mother was against it at first,” she admits. “She did not want me to fight. Her sister did not agree and trained me in secret. We were caught eventually, but knowing I was being trained anyway made my mother finally agree to do it properly.”

“That’s… that’s amazing!” Peggy Carter exclaims. For a moment, she looks as if she has a thousand questions to ask, but she visibly decides against asking them. “My mother wouldn’t even let me play in the mud as a child! She always scolded me for getting my dresses dirty.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Diana declares. “Getting dirty is what clothes were made for!”

“Indeed!” Peggy Carter says, toasting her again. Diana smiles happily.

They spend the next ten minutes commiserating over overprotective mothers and talking of combat practice. Peggy Carter reveals she wants to improve her combat skills and Diana admits she has no space to train. By the time Peggy Carter’s company arrives, they have formed a tentative arrangement—while Peggy Carter heals from her recent injury, she will find a place that suits Diana’s needs, and in return, Diana will help Peggy Carter refine her fighting abilities. As Diana is often in this particular pub, Peggy Carter will either meet her here, or leave a message for her with the barman.

“Thank you, Miss Prince,” Peggy Carter says as she stands. “I didn’t really expect to enjoy my night, but you certainly turned it around.”

“Please, call me Diana, and I enjoyed your company as well,” Diana beams. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

“As do I. Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time tonight. I’ll see you soon.” Peggy Carter offers her arm and looks bemused when Diana clasps her forearm firmly.

“Good talk then?” Charlie asks with a wide grin when she rejoins them. Behind her, Peggy Carter’s friends grow noisy, blustering angrily over her injuries.

“She was very nice,” Diana says, pleased with the encounter. “We will meet again so I can help her improve her fighting skills.”

The men exchange looks before smiling widely at her. “Can we come?” Peggy Carter must have shared the same news with her friends, because Diana hears them echo the question.

She and Peggy Carter exchange identical looks of fond exasperation.

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon 1: No one really senses that Diana isn't mortal. It's primarily her accent that makes people ask. I get this a lot too when I'm ambushed by salespeople. It's petty (I don't like the tricks them employ to reel me in), but also funny. They don't know what to do with me when I say, "Sorry, I have poor English," with a foreign accent. (I was lucky once—the guy spoke some French too! Luckily, I still know enough to converse and he gave up easily when I refused his perfume product, claiming it was too strong for me. Whew!) However, it's also the way she leaps to the defense of others, even against men, that make people take notice of her—that's why Diana thinks they can sense she's different (because from their perspective, she is). In Peggy's case...
> 
> Headcanon 2: Peggy is a trained agent who has heard of 'Themyscira', so from then on, she _knows_ there's something odd about Diana.
> 
> Soooo? Yes? No? Soothe my insecurities? (Or if you wanna grind them to dust under your heel, please don't. I'm very sensitive rn.) Also, let me know if I made mistakes or should add more tags or change the rating, I'm never a good judge for these things T_T
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! <3
> 
> P.S. If you haven't seen it, take a look at loudestdork's [awesome manip](http://erisdea.tumblr.com/post/161678237742/pollydoodles-ozhawkauthor) of Peggy and Diana!


End file.
